


Crafty Or Just Crafting

by TheKoolKandy



Series: Red Team Craft Day [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:09:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKoolKandy/pseuds/TheKoolKandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's craft day at Red Base. You can't mess up craft day, right? Well, you know Red Team.</p><p>This will be a few shorts from the inevitable disaster that this month's craft day will turn into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crafty Or Just Crafting

“Ahhh!” Donut yelled across the room, “stop messing around with that hot glue gun, Grif.”

Grif didn’t look away from what he was doing. “Hey, you told us to do this. You just didn’t say what on.” One after another he was sticking little pieces of raw macaroni onto Simmons’ visor. Simmons wasn’t in it, of course, he was in the bathroom. Grif hoped it would dry enough before Simmons finished washing his hands, which, knowing Simmons, would be at least another ten minutes.

Over Grif’s shoulder, Donut remarked, “that’s actually really good! It’s nice to see you finally taking a shine to crafts day, Grif. Well, as long as Simmons doesn’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Grif said.

A loud succession of crunching noises from the other side of the room drew Donut’s attention away from Grif’s macaroni vandalism. “Caboose, no, you’re not supposed to eat it!” Donut hurried over to the blue. He was sitting at a table with a massive pile of uncooked macaroni before him which was quickly dwindling as Caboose took another handful.

“But this is what we always eat on Tuesday nights,” Caboose complained.

“Not uncooked, surely,” Donut said.

“Why? Then it wouldn’t be crunchy.”

Donut sighed. Blues. “Here, take this. Carefully.” In Caboose’s large, calloused hands the glue gun looked more like a toy. “Good, now gently squeeze the trigger…”

“What have you done!” A high-pitched screech from the far side of the room drew Donut’s attention, yet again, to Simmons’ early reappearance.

“No, you’re supposed to see yet Simmons, it’s not finished,” Grif said. He blew lightly on the last piece of macaroni he’d attached to the visor.

“That certainly looks like a finished penis to me.”

“And you’d know.”

“What? Of course. I have one.”

Grif arched an eyebrow. “That thing?” He added another few pieces of macaroni. It took up the entire visor, a single stream of macaroni shooting across the final third of it now.

Simmons tried to grab the helmet back. “Hey!” Grif yelled. “The glues still hot!”

“He’s right, you know,” Donut said. “Hot glue is dangerous. You have to set a good example for Caboose. Put it down.”

Simmons scowled at the blue, but he returned his maroon—more like maruined—helmet to the table. “I’ll need your nail polish remover later, Donut,” Simmons said.

“Not if you don’t finish your craft. Or you could help Caboose. I’m going to get some popsicle sticks for Grif since he seems more advanced than you two.” Donut exited the room leaving a gleeful Grif to gloat, and a resigned Simmons, already getting Caboose a new glue stick to replace the one he’d absently squeezed out onto the table.


End file.
